Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly, though getting Crutchy for Christmas would be fantastic lol.

Author's Notes: So this will probably be the last chapter in this series, because I haven't actually finished the one for tomorrow yet and I doubt I'll have time lol, don't hate me, I'll keep the idea for next year. Anyhow, this might be my favorite anyhow, lol, it's set in the same time as the movie, and Crutchy is the same age as well. That's all I really have to say, so please enjoy, review, and have a wonderful Christmas!

Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Jack Frost nipping at your nose
Yuletide carols being sung by a choir
And folks dressed up like eskimos

Everybody knows some turkey and some mistletoe
Help to make the season bright
Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow
Will find it hard to sleep tonight

They know that Santa's on his way
He's loaded lots of toys
And goodies on his sleigh
And every mother's child is gonna spy
To see if reindeer really know how to fly

And so, I'm offering this simple phrase
To kids from one to ninety-two
Although its been said
Many times, many ways
Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to… You!

-The Christmas Song-

Summer faded out, to be replaced by the sharp colors of the fall, And in a few months, fall too faded – it's colors being replaced by an utter lack of any color at all. No more reds and oranges but rather grays and whites. Snow started to fall late in November, and the newsies bundled up warm for the long winter ahead. Winter, for obvious reasons, was their least favorite season. The only part of winter they enjoyed even a little was, of course, Christmas. And not for the presents, because newsies never got presents. Not for the mistletoe, because newsies rarely had anyone pretty to kiss beneath it. Not for the lights and tinsel, because these decorations were not wasted on the lower class of New York, and the newsies always felt like they were doing something wrong when they stood with their dirty hands and stared at the rich people's Christmas lights.

No, what the newsies loved the most about Christmas was Crutchy. Sure, this might sound a little strange to someone who's never spent the season with the boys in the Lodging House. But if you asked Jack, Race, Mush, Blink, Skittery, Boots, or any of the boys, Christmas with Crutchy was the greatest gift any of them could ask for. As if the boy cripple wasn't nice enough every other day of the year, on the days before Christmas he positively glowed. And it didn't make sense to anyone else because, well, to them Christmas kind of sucked. No presents, no family, no big dinner with all the trimmings. But Crutchy still managed to get into the spirit, even when he was sleeping on a hard mattress with a single blanket, no good socks, and a shivering Blink on the bunk above him. Even when times were bad, you could always count on Crutchy to have a smile on, because, after all, it was Christmas right?

And the best part of all was when Crutchy would tell his stories at night about what Christmas was for the well-to-do of the city, and what Christmas might be like for all of them one day, if they ever managed to make their way out of this hellhole. He'd usually start off telling the story just to one of the younger boys, because they were always asking him for stories. That was the good thing about Crutchy mostly – he might have been physically handicapped, but his imagination worked just fine, and he was always spouting off, imagining something the rest of the boys knew to be impossible. He'd be sitting down in the common room, talking to Boots or someone, and usually Mush would find his way over to listen too, then Blink – cause Blink went everywhere Mush went – and then Jack maybe, maybe Race next. Until all of them were gathered about Crutchy, who was just sitting there like it was nothing, his eyes kinda looking far away to where none of the other boys could see.

"Dey roast dese chestnuts, ya know, on a big fire, dat crackles an' spits an' it's all warm inside, almost too warm," he'd say, while the newsies were all bundled up, even indoors, on the cold wood floor.

"An' outside da window's Jack Frost, paintin' pictures on da glass dat come out all icy and poifect. An' ya know dose carolahs we heah? Well, dey go up tah people's houses an' knock on da door and sing tah dem, just like dat. Can ya imagine a whole big group a' people comin' tah ya house just tah sing tah ya a Christmas song?"

Several of the younger boys smiled – they loved the carols.

"An' everybody's always all dressed up like an Eskimo," Crutchy would say with a big old smile, just like he'd always have.

And he'd go on to talk about turkey and mistletoe, and the little kids who would stay up at night, their eyes all aglow, just to see if they could spot good old Santa Clause at his work.

He'd go on describing all these things, even though most of the boys had never seen any of them. Like a whole sleigh full of toys and goodies, and flying reindeer in the night.

And on Christmas Eve, that was the best night, because after he'd finished telling the boys all about these things they might or might not ever see one day, he'd struggle to his feet and stretch his back. Then he'd look at the newsies on the floor, all begging with their eyes for him not to stop. But he'd look at them all and say, "Well, I bettah get tah bed, it's gettin' late, right? An' tomarrah's Christmas already!"

The boys would all nod, cause Crutchy really was going to bed and there was nothing they could do to stop him and ask him for more stories. So they'd all mumble their "Night Crutchy"'s, and he'd smile all around just once more and say, really genuinely happy: "Merry Christmas, guys."

And that was what made the newsies' Christmas each and every year. Because even though those words had been said so many times, so many ways, coming from Crutchy they were always special. There was nothing like a "Merry Christmas" from Crutchy – it was the best there was. Maybe because it was directed to everyone of the world, and just to you, all at the same time. "Merry Christmas," he'd say, and then leave for bed.

"Merry Christmas," the newsies would echo.

Merry Christmas to you.